


The Dark Druid

by petra666



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (at least to Harry), Blood and Gore, Change of Names, Creature Harry Potter, Creature Inheritance, Dark Dudley Dursley, Druids, F/F, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Good Dudley Dursley, M/M, Magical Dudley Dursley, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Psychopath Dudley Dursley, Reincarnation, Rituals, Smart Harry Potter, Violence, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:07:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29902236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petra666/pseuds/petra666
Summary: “You ungrateful little girl, breaking my china! You are useless like your mother – I bet you're going to be a whore just like her!” She hit her across Harry's red cheek – I felt some foreign energy moving around me, it felt like I started to feel molecules in the air and their never-ending movement. Then my mom forced my cousin to kneel on the shards.It felt like something snapped in my brain just a second before Petunia's forearm bent in an unnatural angle.
Relationships: Dudley Dursley & Harry Potter, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	1. Snap

I had a comfortable life – mom and dad doted on me even though I never even smiled at them. Not even on photos when my aunt tried to make me giggle or grin, I stayed still and glared at anyone who had taken the camera in their hands. At least I'm not a sun-burned pink beachball anymore. I don't care that my mom says I was cute when I was chubby and that it made me look like my ‘handsome’ dad – if I stayed like that I would worry for my health.

Good thing I grew out of that and inherited more of my mother's metabolism.

I woke up around six a. m. on the day of my birthday but stayed in my room and lazily finished my homework. It was boring and stupidly easy – I wonder from where I inherited my intelligence because I have none from my parents or dad's side of the family. My cousin's parents were stupid too if what mom says is true – so is it some genetical mutation? The freak is pretty smart too though, even if dad says otherwise.

I came down to already cooked breakfast and a pile of presents sitting on the table – I sat next to dad who yelled: “Happy Birthday, Dudders!” What a horrible nickname. I might be only seven but I had been planning to change my name for two years already. “Freak! Give the birthday-boy his breakfast!” he yelled at my tiny cousin who hurriedly deposited a big plate filled with fried eggs, bacon and toast. I would usually trip her, or feel other sadistic need but not today – something about her big green eyes stopped me.

I felt weird. And not the good kind of weird like when I killed a puppy our neighbours got. Such a nasty loud dog. No, this unknown feeling was the opposite of good. The bruise on her frail wrist made me furious beyond belief and made me want to scratch my dad's eyes out because I saw him harshly dragging her through the living room into her closet just yesterday.

But I **grinned** at that. Just **yesterday**. Why do I care all of the sudden?

I ate my breakfast and was pushed to the hoard of gifts. Dad had free time until midday so he wanted me to open them as quickly as possible and then wanted to go out for an early lunch before leaving. I got books (all non-fiction because my parents hate anything that has the word MAGIC in it – I get those in the library so it never bothered me), clothing, a new bike and toys I would later sell to other kids in school (the only reason I acted like I enjoyed action figures, to be honest – I could have anything I asked for but never money itself).

Usually, we visited ZOO or water park but this time he had an important meeting so…

We left at ten and ate at some fancy restaurant – dad ate two meals worth of food, tried to make me eat almost as much (“You are skin and bones, Dudders – you need to grow big and strong, like your daddy!”) and mum ate her small portion of salad. Cousin stayed at home, probably working one of her many chores. I wonder if she hates my parents and me or if she's as hollow as I. 

After lunch dad drove us home and then went to work, thick walrus moustache curling similarly to his lips. Harry was working in the garden, dirt smudged on her pale cheek. I felt the need to rub it off so I went inside with long strides and hid in my room. What is happening to me? I fell into the bed and hid my face in my pillow. The sheets were fresh, which reminded me of the small girl even more and felt the need to throw something. Something was nagging on my brain – a need to do something but I didn't know what.

I tried to sleep it off but I dreamed of magic and big green eyes. I dreamed of bubbling potions and cheeky little girl asking me questions. I dreamed of bones breaking with a move of my hand, eyes shining after praise.

Mom woke me up around two because: “You won't sleep in the night if you sleep through the whole day, Dudleykins!” So I picked one of my new books and read on the couch while she was reading one of her magazines and listened to the TV with one ear. There was nothing interesting in my opinion (like, never) so I have no idea why she always turned it on.

Sound of breaking glass torn me from a description of one of the tanks used in the second world war. I liked history books so they were usually given to me on any occasion. “FREAK!” my mother shouted and bolted to her cabinet with china, in the dining room. I went too.

The little girl stood on a chair – probably so she could reach the high shelves and accidentally pushed the teacup into its damnation. Big fat tears streaked her face but she was silent and her big green eyes became even bigger with fear when mom grabbed her by the neck. “You clumsy little freak! You're going to pay for this!” she shrieked like nails across a board.

“I'm sorry, aunt Petunia,” she sobbed and my mother dragged her off the chair. By her slim, pale, frail neck. I felt the same anger as I felt in the morning, burning in my stomach and chest like raging fire.

“You ungrateful little girl, breaking my china! You are useless like your mother – I bet you're going to be a whore just like her!” She hit her across Harry's red cheek – I felt some foreign energy moving around me, it felt like I started to feel molecules in the air and their never-ending movement. Then my mom forced my cousin to kneel on the shards.

It felt like something snapped in my brain just a second before Petunia's forearm bent in an unnatural angle. “Freak! What did you do?!”

“I did nothing, aunt Petunia, I did nothing, please, I-“ she was sobbing.

“It was me,” I said calmly and picked my little cousin up. But there was something else – not cousin, no. A memory of a small girl rose to my attention. She was blond and had blue eyes, but she looked just like Harry. At least when the blond was a child (Oriana. MY Oriana.). “Touch her again and there will be an accident,” I said matter-of-factly, picking the waif-like girl up into my arms. She was deathly silent and probably in shock. Both of them were.

I took her into the bathroom next to my room and picked all the porcelain in her wounds – and held my hand over it, somehow knowledgeable of how to heal it with _magic_. It also healed her bruises hidden beneath my old t-shirt. It was big on her, even though I was above average only in height – and our age-gap is minimal.

“Thank you,” she muttered when I finished, big green eyes hiding behind her long fair lashes. “How did you do that?”

“Magic,” I shrugged and impulsively pulled out a hairbrush. “Turn around.” She did as I asked and relaxed into my indirect touch. Then I braided her fiery red hair into two strands going over her shoulders. “Dudley, why did you do that?”

“I felt like it.”

Day after day I received more and more memories of an odd wizard that worshipped magic and preferred the company of creatures above humans. His knowledge slowly became mine – our personalities were similar even before so there was little to change in that department.

Petunia got into her head that Harry somehow manipulates me with her magic and tried to ‘free me’. I broke her hand just above her plaster cast and she made another story about falling off the stairs. She would never acknowledge she has a magical son. I made her unable to tell Vernon so he thought his wife was going crazy – but he didn't care enough to take care of her. If she ever hurts the red-head again, I will make it seem like she committed suicide. Vernon is so much easier to manipulate (He has no magic in his body – Petunia has only a slight whisp but even that makes her much more resilient).

The day Harry turned seven was also the day I finally absorbed all the memories and personality quirks from the old wizard that lived hundreds of years in the past. It was the first day I identified myself more as Quinn than Dudley (which was fine – what a horrible name).

I bought her a very small wardrobe, spending my decent money stash in a second-hand shop. I had an inkling of what she would like and acted on that instinct. Clothing was the only thing I was reluctant to share – she looked so small and frail, even though her magic was decently strong. I didn't like that. And if my gut feeling is correct, she will appreciate it.

Especially after her birthday. I hope my intuition is correct. I want my Oriana back.

I bought a small cake for us in the convenient store together with a candle in the shape of number seven. She lit up when I presented it to her in my room the morning of her birth anniversary. Her hair was messy birds-nest like any other morning – I didn't get to it before our little celebration. I wanted to show her new clothes that had quite high necklines and there is no need to ruin my work by just putting on clothing.

With a furrowed brow she managed to lit the candle – just like I taught her last week. Big eyes studied me with a small smile. “I won't sing ‘happy birthday’ to you. Over my cold grave, brat.” That made her snicker, although it was far from a joke. Then she blew out the candle and ripped open her gift, squealing in happiness. I even let her hug me – there was something new in her eyes that I liked very much. It wasn't Harry.

It took her only a week before she remembered fully.

***

Everyone saw Dursleys' as a perfect, small family. There was a tragedy when Petunia Dursley-Evans committed suicide but everyone knew she was in deep psychological issues, which was only fueled by her drinking problem. But even though Vernon Durley never stopped mourning his wife, his son and niece got all his love.

Everyone living on Private Drive knew the two smart kids that usually played together and never with anyone other. They were generally polite and although Harry was sometimes even nice, they distanced themselves from the rest of the community.

Dudley was a tall boy with an elegantly long neck (a cross between his father's no-neck and mother's long one) and long thin limbs. His hair shined like gold under the sun and blue eyes were colder than Russian winter. The willowy boy was surprisingly handsome for a child of Petunia and Vernon – nobody would deny that.

His faithful companion was short and slim – although not like in the past when she looked anorexic. Now she looked healthy with a childish plumpness to her cheeks that wasn't there just a few years back. Her long red hair was always braided and decorated with ribbons in complementary colours to her dress-of-the-day. However, the first thing that caught everybody's attention were her big round eyes of the colour of the killing curse (not that muggles were aware). 

Both of them were beautiful children with perfect grades so no one cared too much about how they called each other different names or weird nicknames. They ignored how protective and cold Dudley was, how _anyone_ talking to Harry ended up beaten to a bloody pulp – children AND adults. They never allowed themselves to even think he was behind anything bad – such a perfect boy would never do that… would he?

Minerva watched the house at least once a month and she saw mostly what the muggles had seen – just with little more judgement and eye for obvious magic use. She saw how the children trained their magic in the back yard or the park. She watched the little girl silence one of her bullies while her cousin cruelly beat him with a stick. She saw him use magic multiple times – so there was no surprise when a letter with the name Dudley Dursley got to her table for a signature – but he rarely used his magic on those equally cruel children.

The cat animagus knew it was wrong not to step into those situations but something told her not to do anything – they never hurt the other kids _too_ much. Her instincts screamed at her every time she saw the cold-hearted boy. They wanted her to run away from danger. She ignored her instincts only once before and it resulted in the death of her friend so she stayed hidden before the day she personally delivered two letters to the Dursley home.


	2. Blood

I felt a magic user outside of our house – it was the same magical presence that watched us at least few times a year. I guessed it was someone from the wizarding world, they probably have a system that finds magical children and some people watch them for the children's safety.

Probably. At least I hope so.

This visit meant I needed to subdue Vernon – I ushered him into his bedroom while Oriana opened the door. “Hello, how can I help you?” I heard her melodic voice while I forced the big man to lay in his bed and made him look sick.

“Hello, my name is Minerva McGonagall. I came with an invitation to Hogwarts – the School of Magic.”

“Come in, can I make some tea for you?”

“That would be nice of you.” School? I heard about magical school maybe a month before I died in my last chance at life. I remember that people praised four people for its creation. Is it the same school? “Where is your cousin? And uncle?”

“He's helping uncle Vernon – he is sick and has a problem with getting out of the bed without fainting.”

I came down and watched her curious magic. It had an animalistic tint to it but she wasn't a creature. I know not of any spell that would do that – maybe some advanced transformation? Or is it a modified familiar bond? “Good morning,” I nodded at her and let my magic pour us all a cuppa.

Oriana hopped up on a chair and patted the one next to her so I sat there. McGonagall sat across, watching the teapot. “Impressive usage of wandless magic, Mr Dursley. I knew you didn't need to get persuaded into believing magic exists. I have a letter of acceptance for each of you,” she pulled two thick envelopes out of her robes. There was no curse on it so I opened it, Oriana followed after me. She knows not to endanger herself.

***

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr Dudley,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_The term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

**_UNIFORM_ **

_First-year students will require:_

  1. _Three sets of plain work robes (black)_
  2. _One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_
  3. _One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_
  4. _One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)_



_Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags._

**_COURSE BOOKS_ **

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

**_OTHER EQUIPMENT_ **

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad._

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK!_

_Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus_

_Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions_

***

“So, do you accept? There is no need to have your father's authorization as he is a muggle. It's muggleborn's right to decide about their education in case their parents are against magic.”

“May I ask?” Oriana asked suddenly.

“Of course.”

“What is a muggle?”

“Non-magical human, like your uncle. So, what is the answer?”

“Yes, I accept. Why are you asking just me? What about Harry?”

“She has paid tuition by her parents since she showed her first accidental magic,” the old-looking female smiled gently at my Oriana. Did she know them?

“I would accept anyway,” the ginger smiled and looked up at me with adoring eyes.

“Do you have any questions?“

“When do I need to pay the tuition? How much money do we need? Will you take us to the place where we can buy everything?” I need to annul our application to high-schools. Or I can simply make Vernon do that.

“Muggleborns have free education as long as they have above Acceptable – which is a magical counterpart to the grade C. But you need to buy your school-supplies if you're not in a need of financial help. Ms Potter has a vault inherited from her parents with money in it – it contains enough money that BOTH of you could survive from that for seven years without an issue. There is also Potter Vault she will inherit when she reaches adulthood.”

“Then I will pay for him too,” Orina smiled widely, happy that she can take care of ME for once. I let her, unwilling to take non-magical money from Vernon. I squeezed her hand, knowing that would make her smile even more than a simple ‘thank you’.

McGonagall smiled at us with a soft edge – good to know my little fairy has the potential to manipulate her. “To answer your last question – I came here as your escort to Diagon Alley, the biggest magical alley in Britain. You can find everything you need there but it should be better to wait for Mr Dursley.”

“No need, I'll just tell him we are going out,” I pushed calmness into her mind to erase her need for our ‘parental figure’. Her shoulders loosened and after I left her with happy Oriana who mellowed her down into a happy professor that took us to the magical alley.

I've never been to one as there was none in my time – there were only camps or travelling merchants with products one could buy. I myself used to sell my potions and protective accessories for profit which made me one of the wealthier wizards (without a rich family behind my back). I might try to establish a similar business in these modern times if there is a demand on the market.

She side-apparated with us – but the feeling was different than my personal type of transportation. There was nothing nice about travelling through shadows and this Apparation was for sure quicker but I wanted to puke my breakfast. I pushed it down and swallowed the bit that got out but Oriana didn't have the same strong will. I held her braids back and cleaned the ground, face and mouth from any residue.

“Thank you,” she nuzzled her face into my chest while she tried to calm down.

“This is a natural reaction, Ms Potter – no need to act embarrassed. Even if I told you, you would react the same way and sometimes it's easier to get used to it after the initial shock,” McGonagall patter her head and I forced my magic to calm down. “Good control over your stomach, Mr Dursley.”

I shrugged before looking around us. We were in a dingy dark alley with only non-magical stores around us.

“I will show you how to get into the Alley through a pub – The Leaky Cauldron,” she pointed at an old sign with a faded picture of a cauldron. “Most muggle-borns and half-bloods come through here. Please, follow me without stopping in the pub, ok?”

Oriana nodded and took my hand in hers. Do we act like some absent-minded children? I gave a slight nod when she stared at me with sharp brown eyes. We got quickly through the half-full pub and came to a dead-end but I felt that the bricks held too much magic for them to be normal. Without thinking I touched one of them that emitted the most magic and pushed the slightest bit of my own into it. The wall started to form a large archway and McGonagall stared at me like I just did a backflip with a twirl (one would expect a witch to know anything is possible with magic).

“How did you-“ she started before composing herself.

“I can sense magic,” I shrugged and went into the first magical Alley I ever seen and visited. Oriana was almost on my back with her clinging and excited jumping but I ignored her and looked around me. Every store was different – in design and its magical barriers. Most had basic anti-theft enchantments and right now disabled alarms. However, there were much more interesting ones – a shop with brooms and a bookshop had anti-flammable wards and a potion-selling establishment had magical ventilation for safe brewing. But the biggest building in the alley that we were approaching was the most impressive.

“That is Gringotts, the only Wizarding bank in Britain. Everyone has money here.” That would explain why they have so many wards centred on identification, lying and illusions. The magic was familiar but I couldn't put my finger on it – until I saw two goblins guarding the door. I should probably act like an idiot in front of the Professor but I couldn't act like some plebian so at least I bowed to them slightly. Oriana followed my lead and then smiled sweetly at them.

I saw their surprise but they said nothing – McGonagall haven't even noticed. She took care of the talking and I sent her and Oriana to the vault – I wanted to talk with one of the goblins. So they went although the redhead wanted to stay with me much more. I went to one of the free goblins and finally did the correct greeting – fist over heart, clicked the heels and grumbled in accented Gobbledegook: _“May the blood of your enemies flow like the river of magic flows through the land,_ ” I bowed slightly.

He stared at me, together with other goblins that were close to us. _“May magic flow through your veins like blood from your enemy_ ' _s wounds. Can I help you with anything?”_

_“I wanted to ask if you can recommend a good book about **modern** goblin traditions and culture? I worry I'm a little rusty in that department.”_

_“We have books in Gobbledegook if you can read them – and have money. Your accent is archaic, where did you learn?”_

_“From archaic books,”_ I shrugged with a partial lie. I just learned from goblins who were old even before I became an adult. _“My cousin is picking up money so we need to wait for her.”_

_“What is your name? I can take money straight from your family vault.”_

_“I'm muggle-born.”_ He was staring at me again, because how could a child without a long line of magical parents own an old book about such an obscure language? I liked how irritated he was with the illogical statements but I knew he could sense everything I said was true. _“So, shall we wait?”_

_“Let me do an inheritance test.”_

_“Sure, if it takes less than ten minutes. Otherwise, I can come back if you wish.”_

_“It will take just a minute,”_ he took out a parchment and a dagger _. “Seven drops of blood and wait 23 seconds for it to work.”_ I ignored the dagger and opened my palm with a spell I used in rituals requiring blood. I gave them seven and not even a drop more – there are many nasty rituals that can torture anyone as long as the caster has a drop of blood from their victim. I healed myself right after and started to count in my head.

***

 **Name:** Dudley Dursley (soul name: Quinn, disowned by the Baker family)

 **Title(s):** The High Druid, Blessed by Magic, Goblin Friend, Killer of Humans, Friend of Magical Creatures

\---

 **Mother:** Petunia Dursley (deceased)

 **Father:** Vernon Dursley (living)

 **Bonded to:** Harriett Lily Potter (parental bond – soul daughter) (living)

\---

**Heir/Lord to:**

_Black heir_ (through a parental bond to H. L. Potter, strengthened by blood relations on the maternal side of the family, strengthened by Magic, strengthened by being Shadow Walker)

 _Potter heir_ (through a parental bond to H. L. Potter)

\---

**Vault(s):**

_Number 1 (Vault of Goblin Friend Quinn)_

Containing: Personal belongings of the High Druid Quinn and Oriana

Eligible because: Name

_Number 7 (Vault of High Druid)_

Containing: Books

Potion ingredients

Clothing

Eligible because: Title

_Number 777 (Vault of Heir Black)_

Containing: Money

Eligible because: 1st in line for being the Black Lord

***

I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that I still had all of my titles – goblins obviously took care of my belongings after my and Oriana's death. And of course druids would jump after the number 7 – such a powerful number, strengthening magical properties and perfecting magical flow. What was a shock was my position as Heir Black, but it meant I had money to my name so I wasn't complaining.

_“Is there Lord Black?”_

_“They are all dead and the only person who could rival you in your claim would be Sirius Black but he's in Azkaban.”_

_“Where?”_

_“Prison.”_ Huh. Convenient.

_“So can I accept the position of Lord?”_

_“As you are Blessed by Magic I doubt any magic would be repulsed by you, Goblin Friend. But that will take more than… five minutes.”_

_“Then I will get here later, with Oriana so she can do her blood test too. Can I get those books? Take money from my Heir Vault.”_

_“Sure, Goblin Friend. Will it be all?”_ Three books appeared after he snapped his fingers and I pocketed them.

_“That'll be all. May your gold flow and business bloom – oh, forgive me, what is your name?”_

_“Sharptooth. May your magic flow and gold pile grow,”_ we bowed to each other and I went to the exit from vaults to wait for Oriana and McGonagall.

The rest of our trip went well, without hitches – if one doesn't count our wand picking. Neither of us ever used a wand – the closest I came to them were my rings that helped with using elemental magic and Oriana used one when she was learning how to concentrate on one point. So we couldn't help the old man Ollivander who ran circles around his dusty shop for an HOUR. I wanted to choke him with his tape but ground my teeth and let him do as he needed (he was too happy about the situation).

Oriana received one made from holly wood with unicorn tail hair core. Mine was made out of yew and dragon heart-string. It constricted my magic flow into a sharp point – it might be good for firing spells in duels but it felt wrong in my hand. We also bought wand-holsters made from dragon-skin that made it impossible for enemies to steal our weapon. I picked one that straps on the leg, where I used to wear a knife. Oriana picked the more popular one that connected to her forearm and disappeared after being strapped to her.

We went back a week later. I needed more books and Oriana wanted to try the inheritance test. First I bought books in one second-hand book store in a side-alley. They were about magical creatures and laws surrounding them (and law books in general) before we went to the bank. I found Sharptooth and went to him so there was little need to tell him why we were there.

 _“May the blood of your enemies flow like the river of magic flows through the land,_ ” I bowed with hand on heart. Oriana said it in English but bowed the same way. She never had my knack for languages.

 _“May magic flow through your veins like blood from your enemy_ ' _s wounds._ You came to accept your Lordship?” He switched to English, probably because of the little redhead.

“Yes, and Harry wanted to get her blood tested.”

I was the one who extracted seven drops of blood from her hand – I did it gently, paralysed nerves around the wound and healed it with licks of warm magic.

***

 **Name:** Harriett Lily Potter (soul name: Oriana)

 **Title(s):** Blessed by Magic

\---

 **Mother:** Lily Potter (deceased)

 **Father:** James Fleamont Potter (deceased)

 **Bonded to:** Dudley Dursley (parental bond – soul father) (living)

 **Godfather:** Sirius Black (living)

\---

 **Creature inheritance:** Fairy (blood: sleeping lineage, soul: full-blood)

\---

**Heir/Lord to:**

_Potter heir_ (blood relation on the paternal side)

 _Black heir_ (magical relation to Sirius Black, strengthened by blood relations on the maternal and paternal side of the family)

\---

**Vault(s):**

_Number 1 (Vault of Goblin Friend Quinn)_

Containing: Personal belongings of Quinn the High Druid and Oriana

Eligible because: Bond; Secondary owner

_Number 687 (Vault of Heir Potter)_

Containing: Money

Eligible because: 1st in line for being the Potter Lady

***

After being accepted by Black Family Magic I looked through my properties and picked a house in London as the perfect new home for Oriana and me - 12 Grimmauld Place. We would pick a Potter property but even though magic accepted Oriana as the Lady Potter, they had little to no property. There was a house in Godric's Hollow that was ruined and Potter Manor was only a pile of stone.

The last thing we did was change our names – I hated my non-magical name and as I was Goblin Friend and already a Lord, Sharptooth was willing to handle the paperwork. I changed it to Quinn Black – Oriana changed hers's too and became Oriana Harriett Potter. Apparently, she liked her now middle name. She wanted the surname Black originally but as she was the Lady Potter she would never be called anything else so she ceased her pleading.

***

I knew for a long time that I wanted to get out of my childhood home and punish Vernon for hurting Oriana before I remembered that I have the duty to protect her. He was a good puppet for these last four years, so I wasn't going to torture him like I tortured Petunia. But he wasn't getting a knife to the heart, no – he created too many bruises.

Oriana went to our new home – the girl never had my taste for blood. She began to clean up the place after I made the house-elf submit to my will – she is probably trying to spoil him just now, while I work, but I couldn't make myself feel angry at her for that.

I wasn't making a scene that should fall into a bigger picture like I tried with my mother – I just lusted for bloodshed.

“This is the end of your life, disgusting human – would you like to plead Magic so she reincarnates you as a Magical Being?”

“What – Dudley, what did they do to you?” he asked, disgusted. He was a totaly different person when I let my controlling magic leave his body.

“Nothing, I'm just showing my true colours,” I hummed and made magical knives that started to peel him like an apple – ribbons of pale skin started to fall on the ground and his screams danced together with magic in the air. I kicked him in the face when he sullied the metallic smell of blood with his piss. “Disgusting creature,” I vanished the bodily fluid that stunk of dehydration. Blood began to seep out of his nose – I must have broken it. Surprising if one takes into account how bony I am. “Do you know why I enjoy your pain?”

He looked at me with big eyes, tears streaming from them in two rivers.

“You hurt my Oriana – Harry. You created bruises on her pale skin, you made her cover in fear. But you had no right to do that because she is MINE.” This time I kicked him in the belly that shook like water in a bowl. “Not even I can hurt her – and I would be the only one if she was slightly less mine. She might not be mine by blood anymore, but she is still MY daughter. MY, did you hear me, you despicable human?!” I lifted him up with magic that curled around me like a cuddly cat or Devil's Snare.

“Son-“

“Not anymore, human. You may call me Master before your death if you wish to tell me anything. However, I doubt you have anything worthy of my attention.” He was conscious only because I wanted him to be up. He would be on the brink of death in a normal situation, he wouldn't be able to feel his punishments. I did it just for his experience. “I thought so,” I muttered when he stayed silent.

Other tendrils of magic went deeper than ‘under the skin’ and started to eat him alive from inside out – he cried and yelled at the same time. To enjoy it fully I closed my eyes and just listened to his agony. He was disgusting, but there was not-often appreciated art in pain-filled screams and he was loud enough to silence the imperfections of his voice.

A spray of blood fell on my face when his fat belly burst with magical tentacles. He finished his last screams before Vernon Dursley died with eyes filled with agony and panic. I soaked in it, waiting for my mind and magic to calm down – I can't go home in this state.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I made quite a few new Tags... 😅
> 
> I feel like there is a need to say that this is NOT incest between Harry and Dudley. It might seem like it but the reason for it is... very different and I don't want to spoil that in the first chapter. Guesses are welcomed.


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